The Rock
by Emerald-Water
Summary: He knew it was the right way. Knew it. How he knew? He just knew. There was no explanation. It was just there; the knowledge, the certainty that this was the right way. There. Sam was there. hurt!Sam and BigBrother!Dean - enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Hi there!

Well, it's been a while that I put a story on-line here. I'm working on a few projects... but this... well, this is what I love.

Having this flashes... just an image of something and then to wrap a whole small story around it. It's exciting and sometimes I don't know where the story goes first.

This here was given to me by my pumpkin (Soncnica) and it kinda flashed up while I read her newest chapter of "Back Roads running through the Forest" (check it out... it's awesome).

The boys... well, if you by accident read my story "Like a broken puppet"... the boys are in the same age.

I don't want to give away too much, because you'll eventually will see... so enjoy...

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**THE ROCK**

"SAM!"

He ran, hurrying down the steep slope while hollering his sibling's name again.

Skidding to a stop where the hiking trail forked, looking down the left and then the right, his senses were on high alert, all alarm-bells going off, screaming at him that something wasn't right.

Behind him, he could hear his Dad puffing as the older hunter tried to catch up.

"Left!" he yelled, decision made, telling John the way he took, starting to run again.

_No fucking time left._ He forced himself to run faster.

"SAM!"

----

It all happened so fast. It didn't even take a blink of an eye. He was confused, dizzy and an odd pressure started to grow on his feet, calves and thighs. As his eyes blinked to half-mast he found himself lying on his stomach on the dirt and needle covered ground. A small groan escaped him as the light pierced into his retinas, amplifying the headache he already suffered. He remembered hitting the cliffside hard and then... everything went hazy... when he tried to push himself onto his hands and knees, he let out a strangled cry as he was stopped by a cruel pain that ran up his legs, to his hip and nestled in the lower half of his back. A sucking noise made him collapse again as he felt himself being dragged backwards.

"Dean..." he wanted to scream, alert his brother but it was only a weak call that he managed. The pain came in waves now, up and down his legs and tears started to blur his vision as he clenched his teeth and tried to blink the weariness away. Another sucking noise and he felt himself being dragged backwards again, icy-cold fingers holding onto his hips, digging deep into his flesh and he swallowed, his heart suddenly racing in his chest. He needed to get away... needed to get away... away...

He started to wriggle and fight against the force that held him, ignoring the pain that started to lit up like fire in his legs, his hip, his belly. He managed to turn onto his back and stopped dead when he saw what was trying to drag him away. Terror made breathing difficult and he started to fight harder against the unnatural force trying to take him away, his breaths coming out in sharp little gasps.

Struggling proved to be futile, because he was still feeling himself being drawn in further and further, the stone already reaching to his ribcage, stopping it from expanding fully. His struggles slowly started to become weaker, the world growing dimmer… and then:

"SAM! NO!"

----

He knew it was the right way. Knew it. How he knew? He just knew.

There was no explanation. It was just there; the knowledge, the certainty that this was the right way. And why he stopped at that particular part of the trail? He didn't know. But his breath caught in his throat and the foreboding and anguish he could feel doubled, as his eyes settled for the first time on the huge rock that loomed there, overtowering the old trees.

There.

Sam was there.

After Dean made sure his Dad would find the spot, he broke into the forest. He ran, his heart thudding hard in his chest, breathing becoming almost impossible as the fear grew bigger and bigger the more he neared his destination. The rock.

When he reached it, he stood there, only for a split of a second.

Staring. Not believing it.

"SAM! NO!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, rushing forward in a desperate sprint, pushing himself for even more speed. He dropped down, skidding on his knees, ignoring the fact that he ripped his jeans, small pebbles and branches on the wooden ground scratching his skin raw, embedding themselves in his flesh as he lunged, his arms wrapping themselves around his brother's chest, pulling him to him, stilling the backwards movement, stopping whatever it was that wanted his little brother, stopping whatever it was that was pulling Sam further in.

He panted. No air seemed to come past his throat as he held on, hard.

He could feel Sam's heart thump under his entwined fingers, felt the fast but shallow rise and fall of his brother's chest, the shudder and tenseness of his muscles.

"I gotcha!" He whispered in between harsh wheezes, trying to pull Sam further out, but stopped as his brother started to moan, his breath hitching for a moment then turning into choked sobs.

"Sorry! Shh! Sorry, just hold on, okay Sammy? Hold on."

Feeling Sam's arms wrap awkwardly around his neck, holding on he turned his head and yelled: "DAD! HURRY!"

He could feel it pull on Sam, trying to draw his brother further in and inch by inch Dean felt Sam being ripped from his arms.

"DAD!" he yelled again, voice desperate, his muscles strained from keeping Sam from slipping away.

"H-urts..."

Dean almost didn't hear the small hiccuped word.

"Sammy?" he whispered, feeling another tug as Sam was being pulled further away, feeling his brother's grip around his neck loosen.

"NO!" Back was the fierceness and determination in his voice. He won't let his brother give up. HE won't give up.

"Hold on Sam!" he commanded, keeping his grip vice-like, trying to find purchase with his feet to fight whatever it was that was trying to steal his brother away.

It didn't help.

Whatever force and strength he had, he won't be able to stop the rock pulling Sam in.

Sam's hands let go of him suddenly and he yelled in anger as his brother was pulled backwards another few inches, his own hold growing weaker and weaker. He could feel Sam's heart still racing under his hands, the stone now enwrapped him to the middle of his chest.

"C-c-old..." he was told in a breathless whisper.

"C'mon Sammy! Hold on! Just a little longer... Dad'll stop this... or..." and suddenly he was yelling in uncontrollable anger on the top of his voice, „I'M. SO. GONNA. KICK. THIS. STUPID. ROCK'S. ASS!" his voice almost cracking on the last word.

"Hold on, Sammy! Sammy...?!"

"C-can't... breathe... t-too... c-c...."

"SAAAMMY!"

He forgot all precaution and put his remaining strength to this pull.

"NNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

----

It was cold. The fire in his body had turned into ice a long time ago, robbing him of any energy to fight. He could feel Dean's warm arms around him, feel his brother's muscles work as he held on, tried to pull him from the stone's deathly grip. But he was too exhausted. And it was cold. So cold.

"C-c-old…" he whispered, breathlessly as he felt the stone slowly starting to encase his ribcage, stopping him in drawing in a deep breath, robbing him of more energy and strength this way.

"C'mon Sammy!" his brother's voice was strained, worried… helpless.

"Hold on! Just a little longer… Dad'll stop this… or…" he felt his breath hitch, could feel the rage erupting a millisecond before it happened.

"I'M. SO. GONNA. KICK. THIS. STUPID. ROCK'S. ASS!"

Dean's anger made him smile faintly but the smile turned into a choked breath, as the stone claimed another part of him, breathing becoming almost impossible now.

He could feel Dean's mood change again, heard him babbling softly without understanding the words.

"C-can't… breathe… t-too… c-c…"

A sharp pain ran through his chest and there was no air coming in, his ribcage unable to expand anymore and the world around him started to fade, more and more.

He tried to hold on, tried but couldn't. _No air! No air! I can't…_

----

He felt the moment Sam gave up and screamed at him not to do it. The body he held onto grew lax and Dean felt his brother's skin suddenly turn cold like... stone. There was no movement anymore and the thudding he had felt under his palms grew slower, weaker and shallower.

Everything around him grew silent, as if nature held its breath to wait for his little brother to die.

And then, suddenly a new sound disturbed the ominous silence. His father's voice.

Dean felt hypnotized as he listened to his Dad's chant; the words an odd, strange sing-song, rising and ebbing away, changing from a pleading quality to a demanding one. And then, slowly he could feel it let go; at exactly the same moment he thought he couldn't keep his hold any longer.

And this made hope arise in him, mobilizing the last of his energy and he started to pull again, trying to get his baby brother out of there, inch by agonizing inch.

It was exhausting, like pulling someone out of thick morass and he felt his muscles and joints scream at the abuse. But eventually Sam was out. He had his brother back.

In the background he could still hear John chant as he worked to put the rock back to sleep.

But he couldn't listen. He had to take care of Sam. Sam, who was lying there, skin so cold it almost hurt to touch. Sam, who was lying there and wasn't breathing.

Without wasting anymore time Dean tilted his little brother's head back, pinching Sam's nose close, took a breath, bent over and exhaled into his brother, watching Sam's chest rise as he forced his breath into his brother's lungs. After repeating his action for a third time he was rewarded with a small gasping breath of Sam on his own.

"That's it, dude!" he coaxed, swallowing against the lump that suddenly formed in his throat while he listened to his brother's choked and rapid breathing.

Pulling Sam gently into a semi-sitting position he almost laughed out in relieve as he heard his little brother's attempt to speak.

"C...c.... o...ddddd!" Sam almost didn't manage that word, because his teeth were chattering so hard.

"'s okay bro." Dean soothed at the same time as he pulled the smaller boy to him, wrapping his arms around him to share his body heat.

He could feel Sam melting into the embrace, his brother's small arms wrapping around his neck again, head coming to a rest on his shoulder.

He stood still like that, feeling the smaller chest move as Sam took in breath after breath, the air he exhaled tickling his neck, felt the shudders that still wracked his baby brother's body.

"You hurt?" he asked so quietly no one else heard, his hands gently moving down Sam's chest, along his sides and thighs to rest for a moment on his little brother's knees. Sam answered his question with a shake of his head so mere, no one else saw.

But it was enough. And Dean tightened his hold as he pushed to his feet, taking Sam with him. Feeling the weight of his brother in his arms, the skinny legs wrapped around his waist.

And he smiled. This felt alright. This was what kept him whole. Today he could have lost it... shuddering at that thought his arms tightened around his brother.

Taking the first step away from the rock his eyes came to rest on his father, who stood there, marvelling, just following their interaction, not daring to interrupt.

His yell-o like legs started to grow steady again as Dean walked up to meet him, grinning down at the mop of unruly hair.

"Sammy wanted to coddle!" he explained with a wink, telling John in his own way that everything was alright.

"Did n-not..." came the soft, but irritated answer from Sam, who never even raised his head.

"Y-you're a-a... big jerk."

John laughed softly, ruffling Sam's hair.

"Bitch..." Dean retorted running his hand lovingly up and down Sam's back.

**TBC**

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And for all who want me to say the age. Sam'd be around 11/12 and Dean around 16/17.  
Reviews are welcome! I hope you liked it! Let me know, okay?


	2. Chapter 2

Heya everybody!

Well, as you might have seen... I didn't completed this story after the first chapter, although I put a „FIN" beneath it.

That's because my mind kept going ;) and as you see now... it came up with a second chapter.

I hope I managed to keep the story nice and didn't destroy it with this... let me know, okay?

Well, what else is there to say??? Ahhh, some **hurt!Sam** in here and some **hurt!big brother!Dean**, little gore and well, some monsters (I think they kinda snuck up on me, so sorry! Really am!).

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Sam fell asleep on Dean's shoulder again, head lying heavily on his collar-bone while he carried him. He was worried with Sam being this still in his arms. But his brother told him he's all right. And anyway… the first thing he needed to do now was to get Sam out of here. Away from what almost happened...

Suddenly something changed. He didn't know what it was, but he could feel it right away. Dean stopped in mid-step, cocking his head, tightening his arms around his brother.

"Dad!" he whispered when he saw his dad's shoulders tense.

"I know. I can feel it too, Dean." His dad replied, drawing the gun, taking a step closer to them.

A cruel, icy cackling made the fine hairs on Dean's neck rise up, his heart starting to race.

"Dad…" he breathed, watching the shadows rushing up to them, disturbing the fallen leaves in their wake.

Eyes fixed on the oncoming shadows, John spoke calmly: "Dean. You go… run as fast as you can. Go, go, GO!" John screamed the last word.

For a moment Dean hesitated… he was at a loss of what to do. "But..."

"Dean! There's no time! I'm gonna catch up with you as fast as I can. I'm just gonna earn us some time. You bring Sam to safety. RUN!"

Without another word, Dean adjusted Sam on his hip, adjusted the hold he had on his little brother and started to run, listening to his dad's voice booming, reciting angry foreign words, the shadows screeching joining his father's voice, the sound reverberating from the trees.

----

On the way back to the car John had cudgeled his brain about what had happened there, at the rock.

He had seen a lot in his life, but rocks trying to eat people... no wonder they hadn't found any remains of the missing hikers.

His voice never wavered as he held the dancing shadows at bay, continued in reciting the defensive-spell while they attacked again and again, felt invisible claws cutting his skin. Then the attack stopped as fast as it had started, leaving him on his knees, head bent, breathing harshly.

The shadows were surrounding him, whirling, alive, sinister.

Whisper filled the air, his opponents growing anxious and another presence suddenly announced its arrival with its cold energy, a calm, dead voice saying: "It will end where it started, hunter!"

And then the shadows dissolved, and John blinked up into the grey autumn sky.

Pushing to his feet he stood there, listening for any sound, felt the slight breeze on his sweat-slick skin, the words of their foe repeating again and again in his mind.

"_It will end where it started, hunter!"_

----

Dean stood there, unbelieving. One of his hand unconsciously cupping his brother's neck and head while he looked at the dark stone that towered right in front of them.

He didn't understand. _How had they ended up back here?_ He was sure he didn't take the trail back.

He felt fazed, his fingers playing soothingly with his little brother's soft hair.

"Dean?"

Dean flinched, looked down and met hazel eyes looking up at him.

"Hey Sammy!" he smiled, trying to hide his nervousness.

"'m cold." Sam whispered, wrapping his arms tighter around Dean's neck. Dean heard a small whimper and his smile was washed from his face.

"Sammy?"

"Hurts..."

Dean could see Sam's eyes shut tightly, face scrunched up in pain.

"Sammy, tell me..." he stopped himself as he saw the first drop of blood falling.

"Sammy?" He whispered, his hand grabbing his little brother's chin to raise his face, seeing the blood dripping from Sam's nose at the same moment as Sam's eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp in Dean's arms.

"SAM!"

----

John ran. He knew now with what kind of entity he was dealing with. Who or better what it was that made the hikers vanish. He needed to warn Dean. He needed to find his sons. And he knew exactly where they would be.

"_It will end where it started, hunter."_ He remembered the words of the witch.

Damn. Even the urban legends had had enough lore about witch-craft. But John had ignored it. Witches don't make hikers vanish. Hikers vanish because of Wendigos, Werewolves and other creatures that feed off of human flesh. But witches...

He stumbled, crashing to his knees, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

Looking down at his front he saw his shirt soaked in blood.

_How did this happen?_ He groaned as the pain he hadn't felt before, suddenly almost took his breath away.

"Gawd..." toppling forward, he hit the leaf-littered floor and tried to breathe through the pain.

"De..." another wave of pain stopped him from saying more and he heard that cackle again.

"You didn't honestly think I would let you get to them that easily, hunter?"

He blinked up to see an odd, bulky shape, barely visible, looming a few feet away from him.

"Life-force, so sweet and precious. I already tasted some of it from the little one..." it smacked its lips.

"'mmmmy..." John weakly cried out.

"Feeling tired John? My shadow-wraiths just had their first taste of you. But for the moment I want to play with you. So, are you strong enough to save your sons? Are you strong enough, John Winchester?"

And with an evil laughter it vanished, leaving him there, alone. For a moment he tried to fight the fatigue, but it was stronger then him, pulling him down into the lurking darkness.

----

He didn't find time to be scared; for himself or for his brother. That would come later.

The moment Sam went lax in his arms, everything started to blur. He felt darkness descend, taking the dim daylight, wind starting to blow, hurricane-like and an unseen force slammed into him, knocked him backwards, while Sam was ripped away from his arms, crashing to the ground several feet away.

The air was forced from his lungs as he hit the rocks hard surface frontal, a cackle filling the air.

And then, hot and putrid breath tickled his neck as a hissing voice said: "So your Daddy put my Golem to sleep again?"

Dean almost chuckled. "Golem? You talking about that friggin rock?"

He felt the pressure on his body increase, his face almost crushed into the stone.

"I'll leave you for my wraiths to feed... gonna feed on your little brother myself... he's mine!" it whispered tauntingly in his ear.

"Don't you dare touch him!" Dean's voice rose, as he tried to lever himself up and away from the rock's surface.

It laughed.

"Another fighter!" it drawled and the next moment Dean felt something digging deep into his flesh, just beneath his left shoulder blade.

He gritted his teeth, bit down the scream that tried to tore from his throat.

"Are you strong enough to save your brother? Wanna play with my wraiths?"

Suddenly the pressure was gone, leaving him on trembling, wobbly legs. He pushed right away from the stone, whirling around, seeing its shadowy features, floating with its back to him, towards his brother. He saw the shadows advancing in dizzying speed, as he pushed away the pain in his shoulder blade, the weakness in his legs and for a second time that day he rushed forward in a sprint, drawing his hunting-knife, as he felt the first claw of the onslaughtering shadow-army move over his back, cutting through his shirt and skin at the same moment "It" bent over his unprotected little brother.

He felt himself falling and in a desperate act left the knife to fly, seconds stretching as he saw in slow-motion the arc of the blade.

It missed, wasn't fatal, but suddenly the place was lit up in an unholy, red glow and the creature hollered, whirling around, burning eyes boring into his as he lay on the ground, feeling the shadow-wraith cut his skin.

The wind died down, the red, only a soft glow on the clearing in front of the rock, as it slowly moved towards him again, its strength pinning him down, turning him on his back as it stood there, before him, green blood running from the wound he created.

"How... dare you..." it said incredulous, slowly bending over him. He suddenly felt his energy being drain from him, being sucked from all the cuts over his body, created by the wraiths.

"Nuuhhgg!" he panted, hands frantically searching the forest floor for a weapon, stopping at a branch, wrapping around it, closing his eyes as fatigue hit him.

"Your father was weak. You are weak. All humans are. I took them, drained them... fed from them..."

It was there, right in front of him. He closed his eyes as he felt its breath on his face, his hand wrapping tighter around the branch.

"I tasted your brother... nice. So young and innocent and beaut..."

The last word was never finished, as he forced his arm to move upwards in a hard push, the branch breaking the creature's skin, embedding itself deep within the witch's body. Dean pushed harder, forcing him forward and it away from him.

The barely visible form, flickered, growing more corporeal with each passing second, its panting breath turning into wails and then to ear-splitting screams.

Dark smoke rose from the fatal wound in its belly.

He felt blood spilling over his hands, hot and burning like acid while he put up all remaining strength to use the branch to pin it to the ground. The earth beneath their feet shuddered, the shadow-wraiths screeched, the faint, red glow becoming more and more present until...

... the world exploded into bright light, leaving him blinded as he toppled to the side and scrunched his eyes close, tears streaming down his face as he screamed at the heat washing over him in waves.

Eventually it stopped, leaving him panting for breath and trembling with cold.

---

It took him some time before he was able to open his eyes.

They felt dry and itchy and he blinked several times to clear his vision. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, whimpering quietly as he felt a lance of pain shoot up his shoulder and a burning sensation in his hands. Looking down at them he swallowed, seeing them raw and blistered.

"'upid sonuvabitch!" he hissed, slowly flexing his fingers, scrunching his nose at the pain, his eyes darting around, falling on the dark circle he was lying in. Dead vegetation, burned by the toxic blood of... his eyes came to a rest on the little, curled up form a few feet away.

"Sammy..." he whispered, dread settling in his stomach. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the throbbing in his hands and shoulder and everywhere else.

Slowly, he stumbled over to his little brother, sinking to his knees, his hurt hands hovering over his brother's head and chest, and ever so slowly he let them sink, sobbing in relief as he felt the shallow movement of breathing and the warmth of his brother's body.

"Sammy..." he repeated the name, his hands gently moving to wriggle their way underneath both armpits, pulling Sam up into his arms and on his lap, rocking them both softly back and forth... back and forth... back and forth...

**As you might be able to guess... there will be a 3rd chapter, so.... TBC**

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Let me know what you think! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, guys!

I'm really sorry it took me so long... but I kinda had troubles with John *rofl*... and then I had to go on vacation and there I got my John-problem solved, but, well... no Internet *gg*

Anyways, lets see what I came up with, yes? I hope you like it. Let me know, okis?

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Dean was terrified now. A bloody nose he could handle but Sam stopping to breathe for a moment and blood running from his little brother's ears couldn't mean anything good.

The second he felt the wet liquid on his arm, and heard his little brother scream in pain, he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

Sam needed to be taken care off as soon as possible.

He pushed his little brother's face against him, cupping his head trying to protect it from further movement and jostling, mumbling soothingly as his other hand snaked around Sam's waist to keep him firmly planted on his hip as he pushed up to his feet, looking around the small clearing.

He swallowed dryly as he came to another frightening conclusion.

His dad hadn't come for them. His dad... looking again around, and up to the now fast darkening sky Dean fought with his conscience. He didn't know what had happened to their dad, maybe he was hurt, lying somewhere in need of help... or... what if the wraiths and witch had...

The small weeping sound coming from his little brother stopped him from thinking any further and he started to move again.

"Sorry dad..." he whispered as he started to hike back to their car. "... I'll be back for you..."

----

It was cold. Freezing cold. He could feel the tremors of his muscles as they seized up to keep his core-temperature.

Blinking his eyes open he was met by darkness and his breath caught for a moment as memories from the hours before hit back home, forced him to move slowly; to turn on his back, to meet the dark night-sky with it's bright sparkling stars. Drawing a deep breath, he winced, feeling the slashes across his chest twinge and dark spots returned to confine his vision... slowly his eyelids dropped again as he fell back into unconsciousness.

....

He sat there, his gaze never leaving the door leading to the examination-rooms. It had been three hours already. Three hours since he burst into the busy ER with his little brother limp in his arms. Three long hours, since a doctor took his responsibility away, told him to sit down and wait. And even more then three hours since he made the decision to leave his dad behind. To leave one part of his life, to save the other.

It felt like drowning to him. His lungs seemed to constrict every time he tried to force in a breath and every now and then, he felt his focus drift and his vision grow hazy. Shaking his head again - to clear it - he looked up and met the gaze of another staff-member of the ER, looking at him with a sympathetic smile only to hasten down the long corridor to yet another examination-room.

All they could see was the mask he wore. A mask of calmness and composure. No one could see the storm raging inside of him, no one could see the thoughts running a mile a second; The insecurity he felt of the decision he made. The fear for his brother, for his father. The fear to come out of this one hunt alone. Dad, Sam... alone...

He must have drifted off again, because only the concerned voice of a stranger and a hand on his hurting shoulder made him snap back to the here and now.

„Are you sure you're okay, son?"

Looking up, green eyes met grey and a gentle smile playing on the lips of the other.

„How..." he had to clear his throat, ignoring the doctor's question.

„How's my brother?" he asked, his voice suddenly betraying him and the mask started to crumble. There they were, all his stupid emotions, displayed in that one little sentence. His eyes blurred as he fought for the composure he had displayed the whole time and the doctor's smile grew warm as he waited for him to calm again.

„Sam will be okay." He answered, the smile still there, honest and caring.

„How about you let me check on your shoulder while we settle your brother in a room?" he asked, his voice soft and nonchalantly.

And Dean would have nodded. Almost.

But as the doctor helped him to his feet with gentle force an image of his father flashed up in his mind. His dad!

„No!" He yelled, breaking free from the physician's grasp.

„Dean, son..."

„No!" he repeated, shaking his head as he moved away from the doctor.

„Dean, you're hurt."

„No, no... I... I... need to find... to find..." he suddenly felt dizzy and hot, and every little breath he took seemed to drill a spike into his shoulder. His vision wavered and before he knew it, the doctor was there again, holding on to him, keeping him on his feet.

„C'mon son. Slow and deep breaths. Slow down, slow down. It'll be better soon." the medic coached.

„Slow... that's it. Walk with me Dean, walk with me..."

But it all was too much, and before he knew it light faded and the world grew dark. He could hear some commotion coming from far away and a gentle but certain voice giving orders. He felt a soft surface beneath him, and he knew he had to fight the fatigue. He had to finish something... important.

But hands held him down and a soothing voice told him: „Calm down, boy. Relax and let me help you." The voice was entrancing, intoxicating and he complied; forgot his sorrows and welcomed the all-encompassing darkness and silence.

....

It was in the early morning-hours when Doctor Aaron was paged for another emergency. Smiling he stood up, getting the kinks out of his back.

The two boys seemed deep asleep.

Making his way to the door, he quietly opened it, cringing as it squeaked. He thought for a short moment that he had awakened the older boy, but the youngster only looked up for a moment, before his head dropped back to the mattress and he continued to sleep.

Grinning slightly he turned away, leaving.

This was the moment Dean waited for.

Gently stretching he winced as the tender skin beneath his right shoulder-blade stung, but he had had worse.

---

_He hadn't passed out for too long. The doctor told him it had been a mix of exhaustion, blood-loss and shock. Dean had snorted at him as an answer and had sat up on the stretcher, ignoring the helping hands he stood__ up and asked for his brother. _

_Doctor Aaron just smiled at him and had led the way to the small, quiet room. _

_For a moment Dean had to force himself to calm down, seeing Sam lying there, surrounded by all the machines. But Dr. Aaron had assured him that everything was okay with his little brother, that Sam only sustained a nasty concussion and severe__ bruising on his back. Dean had taken the news, nodding silently, feeling a lot better the moment the doctor had told him about Sam's condition. At least there was no sign of a bleed or a crack in Sam's skull. _

„_I found some very strange scratches right on Sam's left side Dean. They were deep enough to need stitches, the disturbing thing, however, is that there were hand shaped bruises as well, as if someone..." _

„_There's nothing to worry, Doc Aaron." Dean stopped the man. _

„_Dean? You know... I could help..." and Dean saw the sincerity in the man's eyes._

_---_

Carefully he started to disconnect all the machinery that surrounded Sam, as well as the IV-line, sighing as he finally managed. Standing back and watching his brother sleep, he thought about his path of action to get Sam out of here. He knew Doc Aaron meant well, but CPS was out of question. They had to be gone by then.

Gently wrapping the blanket around his little brother's form he took a deep breath, forcing his still shaky legs to lock and lifted Sam in his arms again.

It hurt for a moment and Dean could feel the wound start to bleed again but he had to get going.

Sam gave a small keening sound and with a whispered „Hush!" Dean tried to calm him as he slowly made his way over to the rooms-door.

The corridor lay abandoned. Everything was quiet in the early morning-hours and for that, Dean was thankful.

Making his way to the stairs, he swallowed.

„Let's get you home little brother. I just hope dad made it out on his own..."

....

Dean didn't dare to sleep. Sitting, he continued to keep his vigil over his hurt little brother.

He had been so relieved when Sam woke up at around six in the morning, bleary eyes watching him for a moment before recognition lit up and he spoke in a tiny voice: „Dean..."

It had been music to Dean's ears.

Sun dawned shortly after and its rays promised to make the day bright and sunny.

With each passing minute, however, Dean grew more and more frantic, more and more scared.

Dad wasn't back. Had he made the wrong decision? Sam had been hurt, and concussions sucked, he knew it from several experiences.

But what if...

The squealing of the hinges had him jumping to his feet and rushing over, almost kissing the floor as a head-rush had his vision growing dark.

„Dad!" He groaned, seeing his father covered in blood, skin sweaty, pale and pastry.

„Dad!"

With a few steps he was there, grabbing hold of his father's arms, pulling him into the room, while he shut the door with one foot.

„Dean..." John's voice was a weary whisper.

„Dean... thank god..." he tried again, while he was led through the small motel-room and pushed down into one of the chairs.

„Stay still." Dean commanded, crouching in front of the chair to meet his father's face.

„Just, stay here. Everything's going to be alright..." Pushing to his feet he was in the small bath-room grabbing their first aid-kit.

„Gawd, Dad. You're a mess."

„Dean..." John repeated... eyes suddenly watery.

„Dad?" Dean's arms holding the first-aid kit sank.

„I... couldn't find you..." John spoke in a broken whisper.

„I... couldn't... find you and I couldn't... couldn't protect you..."

„Dad...'s okay. We're fine. Sam's going to be fine. He's okay."

„Sammy?"

„He's sleeping Dad. Now stop being a sissy and let me help you, okay?"

John looked at his son, taking in the dirty face, the dark circles under his eyes. Mary's eyes. Mary's strength. Not his. He wasn't strong enough.

Something was placed in his shaking hands and as he looked down he saw it was a bottle of Whiskey.

„Drink." Dean ordered and for a moment a voice in John's mind told him Dean shouldn't talk to him like that.

But he mouthed the voice off, as the lid was unscrewed for him and he took the first draught.

Scissors cut through his blood soaked shirt, revealing the scratched skin underneath and a deep intake of breath from his oldest.

„Sammy's having them too. The wraiths... the Doctor asked me who did this. I bailed, ya know?" Dean's young voice wavered over to him as he set to work.

No child should have to do this for his parent.

„Dean..."

„I'm almost done Dad..." the voice now strained and deep in concentration.

John never felt himself drift off, couldn't remember when helping hands pulled him to his feet, walked him over to his bed and covered him up.

Sleep.

....

Warm breath on his cheek roused him from his slumber and he wallowed there, feeling arms resting on his middle, keeping him safe.

He felt drained and tired. His head hurt and his side and back were oddly numb. Blinking once, then twice he slowly opened his eyes to meet his older brother's face, right in front of him, deep asleep.

As his eyes wandered he saw the red gloom of the waning sun illuminating the room.

It was evening.

He knew something happened, because deep in his belly there was still a rest of fright, but he couldn't really remember right now and Dean's serene face told him that everything was alright. Slowly sitting up he winced as the world started to shift on its axis and the headache manifold. Bad idea.

He hadn't been loud but it was enough to rouse his slumbering brother.

„Sammy?" a tired voice asked him.

„Hurts..." he answered in a tiny voice that seemed to echo through his skull.

„Lie back down, will ya?" Warm hands suddenly pushed him down on the mattress.

„What..."

„Nasty run-in with a witch. You have a concussion. Dad's asleep." Dean's voice answered his unfinished question.

„'bout You?"

„I'm tired..." Dean answered with a grumble which had Sam smile.

„Okis..." he whispered, snuggling back into the pillows, feeling his big brother's arms wrap around him again.

Dean was always there. Whatever storm might come. He'd be there to shelter them. Like a rock.

**FIN... **

* * *

Well, I hope it was worth the wait. Let me know! And thanks for reading, reviewing and to everyone who put this on his fave or alert. Hugs!


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